One Breath at a Time
by laureleaf
Summary: Sam's been down this road before. Too many times. He knows what to do. Post season 13 finale.


A/N: Sam's POV post-season 13 finale (spoilers). This fic is more than a bit stylized, and I think it reads best if you actually take the breaths. Let me know what you think in the reviews!

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Breathe in. Breathe out. Ignore the pain in your ribs from where Lucifer tried to cave them in (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Push through the fog in your head from the concussion you got from being slammed against the wall and the floor and everything in between (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Lock your knees to keep from falling to the ground as you ride through the agony rippling through every fiber of your body from where an archangel tore at your scarred soul (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think about your brother, or what he did. Don't think about what's happening to him right now. Definitely don't think about _why_ he sacrificed everything (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Force your shaking fingers to steady as you dial your phone. Talk fast to preserve the fading battery. Don't think about the long war looming in front of you (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Shoot a prayer to the one angel that might have prevented this and try not to sound as furious as you feel. Wish that you didn't know for an absolute fact that God doesn't care and isn't listening. The only person you can truly depend on is yourself, because you're alone in this fight (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Patch up your wounded as best you can with no supplies. Give them platitudes to ward off the pain. Don't let yourself succumb to your own injuries, because you have people depending on you. You can't be weak, not now. Scrape the blood off your hands and onto your jeans (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Find a car and hack it. Gather the weapons and stash them. Bundle the dead body into the trunk. Start an electrical fire that quickly consumes the scene of the crime. Drive away until the smoke fades into the rearview mirror. Follow the routine ingrained into your bones since you were ten (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Drive until the tank is empty. Dump the car and find another. Force your eyes to stay open even when the road blurs and your body cries for rest. You can't stop, because if you stop everything you've been pushing aside will come crashing down (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Hug your mom and be glad that you still can. Hand your injured nephilim to your brother's guardian angel so they can take care of each other. Don't be impatient with their hovering and mothering. Just be grateful that you aren't the sole survivor of your family (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Take a shower in a vain attempt to rinse off the grit of loss. Treat the wounds you've been ignoring. Deal with the pain by bitterly cursing everything that has conspired to destroy your life and ruin your family throughout the years. Pretend that it actually helps. Slip into your brother's room and let yourself finally fall apart, because your brother is gone (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Raid your brother's personal alcohol stash. Take a drink to soothe a throat rubbed raw with screaming through yet another nightmare. Take another in an attempt to dull the feeling of Lucifer slithering under your skin and violating everything you ever had. Empty the bottle to distract yourself from imagining another murderous archangel torturing your brother the exact same way right now. Close your eyes and try to go back to sleep (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Vomit everything you ever ate into a sink that isn't yours. Remember the memories you drank to forget, and try and retch them out of your very soul. Wipe your face with a towel that smells like your brother's aftershave. Remember why you can't let yourself be weak like this again. Some fates are worse than death, and you have to find some way to save your brother from the deal he's made (again).

Breathe in. Breathe out. Walk out of your brother's bedroom and into a world without him in it. Ignore the worried glances and the unhelpful platitudes. You have work to do, and you don't have time for any more self-pity. You're going to fix this (again).


End file.
